


Of Affections and Good Fortunes

by boats_birds



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Awkwardness, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:38:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boats_birds/pseuds/boats_birds
Summary: Takao is a professional when it comes to understanding Midorima and his prudish tendencies.





	Of Affections and Good Fortunes

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first time writing something that's not KagaKuro and _it's really weird for me oh man_. That being said though, I really enjoyed writing this! I've always wanted to write for all my other KnB OTP's, and I thought I might as well start with these dumbs because I've been going through a phase with them. I hope I wrote them okay! Especially since I have more ideas for them!

Midorima was affectionate.

Takao knew it, even if no one else did. Maybe not in traditional ways, or expected ways, or even _normal_ ways. But he was in his own weird, eccentric, Shin-chan way, which was the most important in Takao’s humble opinion.

Of course, Midorima would deny it. Just as he vehemently denied being told he was _ridiculous_ , and _bizarre_ , and _hilarious_. He denied being anything other than hardworking, honest, and dedicated, because that’s all that was important to him.

But Takao knew the truth.

If he had been told two years ago that he’d be best friends with a green giant that had a bad attitude more days than not, Takao might have laughed himself into a coma. But here he was, sitting maybe a little too close with their desks pushed together. It was something he still didn’t understand, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind either.

As Midorima carefully arranged his lunch—box in front of him, a bottle of green tea to the side, and chopsticks placed carefully on a napkin—Takao tore open his package of melon bread with his teeth. He’d been in a hurry to pick up Midorima that morning, so his own lunch sat neglected on the counter at home.

The things he did to pull around a boy in a rickshaw.

Barely sparing a glance at his bread, Midorima reached down into his bag. He pulled out another box, identical to his own. Takao thought it was weird at first that Midorima would be having two lunches, but then again, they were both high school athletes. With their upcoming practices from hell, it made sense Midorima would be eating extra.

But then the box was pushed over to him.

“My mother made an extra lunchbox this morning,” Midorima said simply.

It wasn’t unusual for them to share lunch, or give each other extras. Admittedly, it was usually unwilling on Midorima’s part, as Takao would just steal bites when he wanted. But for Midorima to bring a whole spare lunch was new, and it made Takao feel like his face was hot.

Takao wasted no time opening it. Tearing off the lid, he stared down at all the organized squares of food. It had a bit of everything, an arrangement of colors that made his stomach rumble with impatience. On a closer inspection, as he grabbed Midorima’s spare set of chopsticks, he noticed it had a very specific selection.

He poked at the kimchi with a sly glimpse at Midorima. “She made an extra that just so happens to have my favorite foods?”

Long lashes casted shadows on pink cheeks. Midorima quickly busied himself with his lucky item for the day, an origami frog folded from plain white paper. He pushed down on it, until it popped away, making a small hop across his desk.

“…Yes.”

Takao’s smile was so big it made his cheeks hurt.

He didn’t want to look into it too much. He knew he _shouldn’t_. Because if he did, he knew he’d be looking for something that wasn’t there. So instead he snatched the chopsticks and dug in.

 “Thanks, Shin-chan!” He didn’t hesitate to shovel the kimchi in his mouth. “I’ll make sure to pay you back.”

Midorima went back to his own lunch, scooping up bites of rice. They made it a point not to look at each other. And if it seemed like he was smiling between bites, Takao didn’t notice.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, stupid Takao.”

 

* * *

 

Midorima was caring.

Takao knew it, even if people looked at him funny when he said it. Maybe not all the time, or every day, or even every _other_ day. But he was, even without saying as much or expressing himself the best, which was just as nice in Takao’s professional opinion.

Of course, no one believed him. Just as they didn’t believe that Midorima was anything other than an arrogant, blunt, stuck-up weirdo. Midorima never said anything about these accusations, which was frustrating to no end when Takao wanted to say otherwise.

But Takao knew the truth.

If he had been told two years ago that he’d care about such an emotionally constipated guy, Takao might have choked to death from giggling. But here he was, walking down the hallway beside Midorima, barely reaching up to his shoulders. He had to look up when they talked, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the height difference.

Hands laced at the back of his head, Takao peeked around Midorima until he was walking backwards. Maybe not the smartest move on his part, but he couldn’t help it when it made Midorima watch him more closely, usual frown on his face.

Takao almost wanted to tell him he’d have a set of frown lines if he wasn’t careful.

“Sooo,” Takao trailed, “what’s the lucky item for the day?”

Midorima held up the analog alarm clock, the little hammer clinking between the two bells as it was moved. Its large face reflected Takao’s face, hands ticking away the time until homeroom started. As far as lucky items went, it wasn’t the most obnoxious Midorima had brought to school. But it was still just as out of place as all the others.

“Make sure you’re not late for practice.” He grinned. “Coach will have your head if you’re late and bring a clock.”

“I won’t be, of course.”

Abruptly, Midorima stopped in the hallway, nearly making Takao trip over his feet in his rush to stop as well. Before Takao could ask what the problem was, Midorima started digging through his pocket. After a moment, he pulled his hand back out, fingers wrapped around something.

Then Midorima held out a green pen to him.

He gasped. “Did Shin-chan finally give me my own rolling pencil?!”

“No.” Midorima scowled. “While you’ve mentioned it, stop taking my belongings without permission.”

Taking the pen eagerly, he clicked the end of it while Midorima lectured him. Instead of a point emerging, a light flickered on from the end. It wasn’t that bright, but it still lit up the green of Midorima’s hair and eyes, lightening them like they were leaves filtering sunlight.

“A pen light?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

Midorima adjusted his glasses, just enough that his lens reflected the light to hide his eyes. His hand clenched around the handle of his alarm clock, so hard his knuckles turned white. It wasn’t until Takao heard the slight tinkling of the hammer on the bells that he realized Midorima was trembling.

“It is Scorpio’s lucky item for the day, of course.”

Takao arched a brow up at him, amused. “You know I don’t believe in that fate stuff like you.”

“It never hurts to take every precaution. Scorpio’s placement was low today.”

Takao knew. Because ever since meeting a certain green-eyed, long-lashed tyrant, he looked at the horoscope every morning. So he knew Scorpio was low today.

Just like he knew Cancer was one place below Scorpio.

“You’re so sweet, Shin-chan.” Quickly, before Midorima could argue with him, Takao pinched at his own arm. “Sorry, had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming it.”

Midorima huffed and walked around him, stomping off towards their classroom. They made it a point not to say anything until they were in their classroom. It was only then that Midorima grumbled under his breath, in a way Takao wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear.

“You are preposterous, Takao.”

 

* * *

 

Midorima was thoughtful.

Takao knew it, and he was pretty sure the team knew it too. Maybe not in a very considerate manner, or sensitive in any sense, or even _politely_. But he was, and he showed it all the time in how he spoke about people in the most blunt way, which was just as good in Takao’s generous opinion.

Of course, Shuutoku was still getting used to it. They all knew that Midorima was doing his best for them, and that he wanted them to do the best they could in return. Though as soon as he used one of his three favors, Miyaji was immediately threatening him with all fruits imaginable.

But Takao knew the truth.

If he had been told two years ago that he actually liked the point guard that had completely destroyed him in middle school, he might have punched someone. But here he was, his arm draped awkwardly over too tall shoulders while Midorima practically carried him to the bike. It was frustrating, but he wanted to fall over laughing at the same time.

His ankle twinged with pain every time he put weight on it, limping slowly alongside his teammate. Perfecting a new kind of pass was always hard, straining him in ways he never expected, and so it wasn’t a surprise when he ended up rolling his ankle instead. Ootsubo had called out to him first, but it was Midorima that ran to him on the floor before everyone else.

Against Takao’s insistence, Coach Nakatani called practice early.

“Sorry, Shin-chan.” Takao slumped more against him. “I don’t think I can pedal you home this time.”

Midorima looked completely affronted when he scowled down at Takao. His arm tightened on Takao’s waist, his hand on Takao’s wrist. It didn’t take long for Takao to realize he was insulted, since it seemed like something was always insulting Midorima.

“You are not, of course,” he said slowly. “You’re sitting in the back.”

Takao stared back at him with wide eyes. “...Seriously? _You’re_ driving _me_ home?”

“Yes. There is hardly another option.”

“But...my house is out of the way for you. You’ll have to double back.”

“Takao.” Midorima’s voice was stern, deep with adamancy. “Get in the back.”

As they approached the bike, Takao snorted a laugh. It took two years and a hurt ankle for their places to finally swap. And instead of feeling triumphant and proud like he expected, he had a weird fluttering in his stomach that he couldn’t place as anxiety or guilt or something else.

It took some maneuvering, as Midorima helped him scoot back in the rickshaw. After he was situated, as comfortable as he could get, Midorima shrugged off his jacket. Folding it into a perfect square, he slid it underneath Takao’s ankle before hopping onto the bike.

After all this time, Takao had been convinced Midorima didn’t even know _how_ to ride a bike.

But they took off towards his home, only stopping for lights and traffic. Takao couldn’t help but peek over his shoulder as Midorima pedaled. He watched the muscles of Midorima’s shoulders work underneath the white of his shirt, stretching the material thin. His legs were so ridiculously long, that it put his waist higher when he pedaled.

Takao shifted his eyes to the darkening sky pointedly.

“I could get used to this,” he hummed.

Midorima didn’t even look back at him. He merely pedaled faster, legs working in circles. The sky was blooming in such vibrant pinks and purples, clouds glowing orange, Takao didn’t notice the flush of Midorima’s ears.

“ _Don’t, Takao_.”

 

* * *

 

Midorima was warm.

Takao knew it, like he had somehow always known. Maybe not in a physical way, or even really an emotional way. But he was, deep under all that tough exterior he put on for everyone, according to Takao’s expert opinion.

Of course, most anyone would say Midorima was cold. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth on most days, given how he spoke in such a calculated, candid tone. He definitely wasn’t one for physical contact either, avoiding anything except the occasional high-five from his teammates.

But Takao knew the truth.

If he had been told two years ago that he’d have a crush on a guy who carried around teapots and stuffed penguins on the regular, he might have possibly died. But here he was, Midorima tugging on his shirt and avoiding his eyes before they even left the gym. It was strange how Midorima was acting, but Takao couldn’t stop staring at him.

Green eyes darted between the picture on Takao’s shirt and an interesting line on the court. They had just finished their extra practice, the same as they did any other night. Takao was still a little sweaty, breath still heavy in his lungs. But Midorima had no problems holding him back, keeping him from leaving the gym.

“I…would like your help,” Midorima said slowly. “With my lucky item for the day.”

“What? Is it hard to find or something?”

The grip on his shirt tightened. “No.”

Takao couldn’t stop grinning up at him, bemused and just a bit confused. “Isn’t it a little late to get your lucky item anyways?”

He was used to Midorima asking him for help with lucky items, which is how they usually ended up at random thrift stores and antique shops. Takao had been witness to a variety of Midorima’s items, from the extreme weird to the almost not-out-of-place.

But it was the first time he had acted like this when asking Takao for help with one. His face was flushed, sweating anew, and his hands shook for a different reason than exhaustion. Heart lurching in his throat, Takao leaned forward to try and catch Midorima’s eye.

“…Shin-chan?”

“It is…” Midorima swallowed, and Takao watched the bob of his throat, “a view of the night sky.”

That...wasn’t strange. Takao had learned early on that there wasn’t much of a limit to lucky items--places, people, music, all kinds of abstract concepts. He didn’t think he’d ever forget when Midorima made himself listen to Western music, even as his face scrunched up in hatred.

“Why do you need help with that?” he asked.

Letting out a low exhale, Midorima finally looked at him from under his lashes. For a brief moment, Takao was startled. With how pretty Midorima was, and how he had just thought of Midorima as _pretty_ of all things.

“I would like for you to join me.”

Oh.

_Oh, that made more sense_.

They’d been out plenty of times. Stopping for dinner after practice, dragging Midorima to karaoke, meeting up for basketball even on the weekend. Even when Midorima went to meet with the other Miracles, he had Takao drop him off and pick him up.

But Midorima had never been so nervous in asking Takao to go somewhere. That alone told him everything he needed to know. How it was different from all those other times.

Takao’s cheeks burned hot as his smile stretched them.

“After you, Shin-chan.”

When they sat on the bench at the closest park, Takao felt nauseous happiness. They couldn’t see any stars because of all the Tokyo lights, but it didn’t matter much when they stared at the dark blues above them. He was simultaneously so small in the universe, but so big on top of the world.

And when Midorima’s pinkie barely brushed against his knuckles, Takao felt like a star imploding. Expanding so much larger than himself, his feelings somehow tangible in the blurry mess of the sky. Ever growing, and ever burning.

Midorima was still staring up, his glasses reflecting lights. He didn’t say a word when Takao laced their fingers together, loose. But then Midorima smiled, small and foreign, and Takao committed it to memory.

“Thank you, Takao.”

 

* * *

 

Midorima was loving.

Takao knew it, and he hoped no one else ever would. Maybe not in romantic ways, or charming ways, or tender ways. But he was in soft ways, quiet ways, and those were all Takao knew those were all he needed.

Of course, Midorima would deny it. Maybe he sighed whenever Takao wanted to cuddle, and maybe he scowled when Takao kissed his cheek, and maybe he huffed when Takao curled up with him in bed. But he always smiled when he thought Takao wasn’t looking, and he never hesitated to hold open his arms.

So Takao knew the truth.

If he had been told all those years ago that one day he’d wake up next to Midorima in the mornings, in an apartment they shared, he couldn’t have believed it. But here he was, opening his eyes to green hair still impossibly neat after sleeping and lashes spilling inky on pale cheeks. It was like a dream, one that Takao still couldn’t believe he was living.

It was one of those rare mornings where Takao was awake first. With Midorima studying into deep hours of the night, trying to get into medical school, he crashed on days he didn’t have classes. So Takao got up as quiet as he could, and made his way to the kitchen to make a surprise.

He was in the middle of flipping his cinnamon pancakes when he heard a yawn, and then two arms wrapped around his waist. With a smile, he leaned back into Midorima’s chest, relaxing while waiting for the pancakes to cook. Midorima propped his chin on top of Takao’s head with another yawn, making Takao smile hopelessly wider.

“Well, someone’s feeling extra affectionate today.”

“Nonsense,” Midorima said, completely at odds with how he nuzzled his face in Takao’s hair.

“Oh? What do you call this then, Shin-chan?”

“…Sleep deprivation, of course.”

A laugh bubbled from Takao’s throat, leaving him grinning and tipsy. He turned around to return the hold on Midorima’s waist, squeezing as hard as he could until Midorima let out a small grunt. His happiness was so overwhelming, threatening to spill over, that he blew a quick raspberry to Midorima’s neck.

“Quit being juvenile,” Midorima said, ducking his head.

Takao beamed up at him, shameless and sure. “But you like me when I’m silly.”

Midorima looked down at him, green eyes dancing with amusement. The sunlight streaming through the window left them both golden and bright, wrapped together closer than the rays dancing across the floor. And when Midorima smiled, Takao tipped up to kiss him.

“I never said I didn’t. Silly Kazunari.”


End file.
